


burning through the night

by leighbot



Series: twhis [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Zayn, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Play, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nipple Clamps, Omega Zayn, Rutting, Sub Harry, Very Mild Exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9502910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: He can see Harry where he’s stood in the bathroom, working his way through his nightly moisturizing routine. It’s adorable, Zayn always tells him, and he smiles to himself while he watches Harry squirt lotion into his hand. Harry pulls back from the mirror to look into the room.“What’s up?” Harry asks.“Your rut’s coming soon, isn’t it?”Harry frowns and furrows his brow, clearly giving it a thought. “Yeah, shit.”“It’s the night of the party, isn’t it?”Or, the one where Zayn helps Harry contain his rut. At the company Christmas party.A coda to 'the world has its shine'





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mod for running this fic fest and to everyone who helped me finish this story.
> 
> Title from Years & Years.

Six months after meeting and getting involved with Harry, Zayn finds himself spending more nights at his boyfriend’s flat than he does at his own. The novels he’s collected over the years from second hand shops are scattered across Harry’s bookshelves in the living room. Zayn’s favourite cookbook has a place of honor on the worktop in the kitchen with Harry’s preferred recipes earmarked. Harry’s large, walk-in closet has a side designated specifically for Zayn and Harry turns a blind eye to the fact that some of his shirts have magically wandered to the wrong side.

More changes have been made than just Zayn’s property being scattered around, though. Harry’s once boring, all-white room now hosts a fluffy olive green rug, brown and beige blackout curtains that cover the wall-to-ceiling windows, and a new flatscreen television hangs mounted on a wall that features a mural Zayn’s drawn and painted by hand one afternoon after they’d smoked up and fucked lazily in the tub. It’s a mess of colors and shapes but Harry won’t let Zayn paint over it.

Yet. Zayn has a feeling that he’ll get his way one day.

One cold morning in mid November, Zayn wakes up to find Harry watching him with a nervous expression on his face. Zayn is on his stomach and he has the white, overstuffed duvet pulled up and over his shoulders to block out the chill in the room. He lifts his chin, a wave of cold air sweeping down his bare chest with the motion, and pouts up at Harry.

“What did you do?” he asks. It’s far too early and cold to beat around the bush.

“Nothing bad,” Harry says. His voice is gentle and far too awake, missing the early morning gravel it usually holds. Zayn’s even more curious now.

“What is it, then?”

Harry pouts as if Zayn’s curiosity is somehow unexpected. “Don’t be mad…”

“Babe,” Zayn says, sitting up and tugging the covers with him. “You’re worrying me a little.”

Harry sighs and speaks quickly, too fast for Zayn to understand.

“What’s that?”

“I RSVP’d ‘plus one’ to my work’s Christmas party.”

For a moment, Zayn doesn’t respond. He’s expecting something else. From the way Harry had acted, the sentence should have ended with ‘and then I shot a man’. When it’s clear that Harry isn’t going to expand on his news, Zayn shrugs. “Okay.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Should I be?” Zayn asks, pushing the covers down so he can stretch his arms high above his head. Harry shifts on the bed, a barely there moment, but Zayn finds himself flinching anyway.

“Y’alright?” Harry asks, nervousness replaced with concern in his expression.

Zayn laughs and forces himself to relax. He doesn’t know how to say that his ex-fiance had a terrible habit of tickling Zayn’s ribs and armpits at every opportunity. It’s one of those odd quirks that used to annoy Zayn but bringing it up would just make Harry upset and slightly possessive for the rest of the day. It isn’t worth it to Zayn.

“Cold,” he says, which isn’t entirely a lie, and he bundles the duvet around his chest again.

“I can turn the heating up,” Harry offers.

Zayn puts a hand on his arm before he can climb off the bed. “I’m alright, babe. Do you wanna talk about this Christmas party?”

Harry makes an awkward gesture, a half-shrug combined with a fierce head shake.

Zayn decides to ignore it for now and smiles instead. “Is there breakfast?” he asks, changing the subject.

“I can make some or I can run downstairs to that bakery you like.” Harry offers eagerly, smiling and seemingly forgetting the holiday party and the weird moment between them.

Zayn’s stomach rumbles at the thought of their blueberry scones. “Let’s go there.”

“Hey, Zayn,” Harry says as Zayn makes to push off from the bed.

“Yeah?” Zayn pauses. “Do you not want pastries?” He’s already resigning himself to forego the scones if Harry isn’t in the mood.

“No, I mean- pastries are fine. Just. I like when you’re here,” he says. After a second, he clarifies with, “Here at the flat.”

Zayn feels his smile soften and his eyes get a little smaller as he looks at his boyfriend. “I like when I’m here, too.” He can’t resist adding a little snark so he says, quietly, “at the flat.”

Harry doesn’t seem to notice the sass. “Move in with me,” he says quickly, as if he’d been scared to say the words.

Suddenly, the thought of pastries isn’t so enticing.

Zayn scoots across the mattress until he can kneel up on the soft surface and get a leg on either side of Harry’s waist. “Absolutely,” he says without hesitation as he leans in for a kiss. “You didn’t have to bury the lead with Christmas parties and pastries.”

Harry grins against his mouth, pulling him in tight. “We can still get those pastries. And we really do need to go to the party.”

Zayn pulls away just far enough to brush Harry’s curls behind his ears. “I don’t want to move from this bed,” he says. He sees Harry about to say something and he quickly cuts him off. “I don’t want _you_ to move from this bed, either.”

Harry smirks and leans back, pulling Zayn down with him. The motion makes Zayn feel unbalanced and he laughs into the kiss as Harry’s hands map out his bare skin.

 

 

It had been easy to read the nervousness in Harry’s eyes the morning he had first mentioned the Christmas party. As a rule, Harry isn’t nervous often or, if he is, he doesn’t let Zayn see. He’s a perfect fit for every alpha stereotype in that sense: he tries to always give an aura of confidence when around the person his instincts are telling him is ‘his’.

Zayn would get defensive about it, and had in the past with his exes, but his instincts and his pheromones have claimed Harry right back. The small bits of alpha posturing that Harry attempts usually only make Zayn feel good things.

So to have Harry show any slight bit of weakness, especially over something relatively small like a work function, has put Zayn on edge. It isn’t until he’s re-reading the invitation one night about a week before it that he realises the party is set for the nineteenth.

He isn’t sure if Harry knows.

“Hey, babe?” he calls out from his spot in the big bed, covers kicked down to his toes. He’s stolen Harry’s pillows as is his routine, shoving them behind his back and shoulders so he can have a comfier spot to recline. He can see Harry where he’s stood in the bathroom, working his way through his own routine with his expensive lotions and moisturizers. It’s adorable, Zayn always tells him, and he smiles to himself while he watches Harry squirt lotion into his palm.

Harry pulls back from the mirror to look into the room. “What’s up?”

“Your rut’s coming soon, isn’t it?”

Harry frowns and furrows his brow, clearly giving it a thought. “Yeah, shit.”

“It’s the night of the party, isn’t it?”

“Fuck. I can’t miss it. My boss will kill me.”

Zayn gets up and crosses the room to stand behind Harry. He stretches a bit to hook his chin over Harry’s shoulder, locking eyes in the mirror. “Can’t you just explain you’re going into rut? My heat used to get me out of a lot of things in school.”

Before Zayn’s even finished asking, Harry’s already shaking his head. “My boss is an alpha, too.”

Zayn understands what he means. Though alphas and omegas are common presentations in society, their symptoms of presenting- ruts, heats and pheromone bonds- are mostly stereotyped by the media and not always the all-encompassing loss of will many betas believe them to be. It can work in their favour, like if Zayn wanted to get out of tests in school or was late with a commission piece, but other alphas and omegas know that the majority of their presentation can navigate their everyday lives without much trouble even in the most stubborn of ruts.

Zayn hums, thinking it over. The softness of Harry’s skin at his waist is tempting and Zayn finds himself letting his fingers trace the waistband of Harry’s boxers. He presses a kiss to Harry’s skin near his neck as he lets a hand slip under the elastic edge. Harry sighs and relaxes in his arms, one hand reaching back to grip Zayn’s own hip. His long fingers run against the bone there.

“If you want,” Zayn starts to say, sliding his fingers into the thick patch of curls surrounding Harry’s warm, mostly soft cock, before he cuts himself off to bite teasingly at the sharp bone of Harry’s shoulder. “If you want to keep yourself under control at your party,” he starts again, “maybe I can be the one doing the handling.”

The sound that leaves Harry’s lips is closer to a groan than anything else. His eyes have closed completely, mouth open and pink tongue flicking out to taste his own lips every few seconds.

“Would you want to try to be a good boy for me?” Zayn asks with a grin hidden from the mirror.

Harry nods.

“We’ll talk about it more in the morning,” Zayn says. “For now, why don’t you come to bed with me?”

Harry’s eyes are dark when they open again, casting a helpless glance at Zayn through the mirror. He stays still when Zayn takes a step back but turns once he’s past the doorframe. He follows Zayn into the room and onto the bed.

 

 

The company Harry works for specialises in a boring section of business law that means they can charge their clients- typically large, privately owned companies- exorbitant amounts but they usually have to put in endless hours and plenty of sleepless nights per case. The employees were all at the tops of their classes and tend to be socially awkward but bookishly brilliant. Zayn doesn’t understand a lot of what Harry does for a living, if he’s honest, and he’s scared he’ll be out of his depth around Harry’s coworkers. Most of them are quite a bit older, from what Harry’s told him, but he hasn’t met them to be sure.

In the seven or so months that they’ve been dating, Zayn hasn’t been able to grow used to the extravagance that Harry’s company puts out. He had tagged along on one of Harry’s recent trips to Dubai and the no-limits spending had caught him off-guard. Harry, himself, if a bit extravagant in his own way. Though his flat is modest in size, it’s in a nicer neighborhood than Zayn could afford on his own. Harry doesn’t have a lot of high-end furniture decorating the place, but he splurges on expensive cars and large, flat screen televisions. He likes taking Zayn to fancy restaurants and then to shows after- musicals and ballets, though they see 2D films together from time to time.

It’s a lifestyle Zayn doesn’t mind but also doesn’t think he could ever grow accustomed to. He’s already noticed the ways he’s brought Harry closer to his own ways, the two of them spending more nights holed up in the flat they’re now sharing than they do going out.

It isn’t surprising, then, that the company’s Christmas party is on exactly the same level of unbelievable excessiveness as the trip they had taken together. Zayn tells himself he can be comfortable with it, for one night at least.

Saturday morning, the company sends a black SUV in the morning to bring them into London. Zayn had originally scoffed and nearly refused when he’d found out the plan the week before, but then Harry had reminded him that they could fool around in the car on the way home and his arguments against had quickly died.

He also quickly came up with plans that put the hours on the way into the city to good use as well.

“You got everything you need?” he asks Harry, sliding his own packed duffle bag into the boot.

“Think so,” Harry responds with a thoughtful pout. “Our suits are laid out, our bags secured. I’ve brought snacks-“

“Of course you have,” Zayn interrupts, grinning.

“I can leave them behind if you’d like,” Harry teases.

Zayn mimes zipping his lips closed.

“We’ve got everything.”

“What about your toys?” Harry’s mouth goes slack and Zayn hears him drag in a sharp breath. Zayn steps closer, breathing to words into Harry’s ear. “I packed everything you’ll need in my green bag upstairs. Will you go grab it for me, babe?”

Harry nods and closes his mouth, pulling Zayn even closer for a quick kiss before he turns away and heads back inside. Zayn smirks and turns to the driver. “He’s just got one more bag to bring down and then we should be ready to go.”

“No problem, boss man.”

“Hmm, could get used to hearing that,” Zayn jokes before slipping into the backseat.

The SUV has a bit of stretch to it like a limo, with a partition that can be put up to block the driver’s view. Zayn sticks his head back out the door.

“Al, d’you mind if I block us off? You don’t want to stare at me sleeping for three hours.”

Al gives him a knowing smirk and Zayn can’t help but return it a bit. “Not a problem at all. Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Zayn tucks himself back inside, rolling up the partition as he casts a glance around. The windows are tinted nearly black, there are two individual seats against the partition and a bench seat facing them. A fancy ice bucket holds two expensive bottles of champagne. Flutes are stored below and there’s a small fridge tucked under one of the seats.

“Posh,” Zayn says under his breath.

He’s thought over the next few hours repeatedly this past week. He’s planned out the entire evening- down to every half hour and sometimes smaller intervals- and he enacts his plan immediately.

He kicks his boots off and tucks them under the bench seat. He’s wearing his nicest pair of black slacks and a loose-fitting dress shirt, black socks pulled up high and collar open. He had been planning to wear this exact outfit for the party but, on Tuesday, Harry had surprised him with a custom-tailored Tom Ford black-on-black suit. It’s the exact kind of generosity that Zayn usually declines or bats away but the look on Harry’s face had been too excited- excited to share something like this with Zayn.

Zayn had let Harry dress him in a black cashmere sweater and then the suit over top of it, noting any imperfections that his trained eyes saw before letting Zayn finally take it off and put it carefully away.

Zayn had then expressed his gratitude in the best way he knew how- he forced Harry to the cushioned seat in his walk-in closet and rode him until Harry had knotted twice and sucked a line of bruises along the curve of Zayn’s collarbone.

The bruises are fading and they haven’t had sex since that night, so Zayn knows Harry’s desperate for it and would be even if his rut wasn’t setting in. He’s been half-hard in his pants all morning, a chub that he and Zayn have both ignored for the sake of playing this evening.

He settles into one of the bucket seats with his back against the partition. He tucks his legs under his bum and grabs one of the champagne bottles, placing it between his thighs and working the top open carefully.

Harry finds him like that, bottle open and sipping from it lazily.

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asks with a small, slow grin. He has pink high in his cheeks and his motions are just a tick slower than normal. His rut is close.

“We’re going to drink ourselves silly,” Zayn says, “but then no alcohol at the party.”

“Sounds fair.”

Zayn grins at him and passes the bottle over. He watches Harry set down a small green bag before extending a hand for it, gamely ignoring the need for a glass and taking a swig as the engine starts.

They pass the first bottle back and forth between them, polishing it off quickly. Zayn’s untucked one of his legs and has his foot pressed against Harry’s boot, tapping idly in a random pattern. The drive is steady and the scenery outside the window is boring.

“Do you feel anything?” he asks Harry.

Harry nods and then shakes his head. “Feel a little, I think. Got a-“

“What?” Zayn asks, letting his other leg slip out from underneath him and stretch out along the floor. He sees the hint of Harry’s erection in his trousers and knows exactly what Harry has on his mind.

“Baby,” Harry says around a sigh, clearly frustrated

“You’re gonna have to tell me what you want.”

“Just a bit of relief,” Harry says, his thighs spreading apart and his hands falling to rub circles near his hips.

Zayn hums. He had planned to bring Harry off at least once in the car but it’s a little earlier than he expected. He’ll just have to make it last longer, then.

He slips out from his seat, kneeling on the floor and settling between Harry’s spread thighs. He teases at Harry’s bulge distractedly, running his fingertips along the prominent shape through the gray suit trousers so tight they nearly look painted on Harry’s skin.

“You have to be quiet,” Zayn says as he undoes the zip of Harry’s trousers.

Harry nods. “I can be.”

Zayn scoffs but doesn’t argue any further, just finishes undoing Harry’s trousers and tugging them down with his pants. Harry lifts his hips, helpfully, and sighs when his bare arse hits the soft leather of the bench seat.

Since the whole intention of the evening is to get and keep Harry out of his own head, and help him resist the urges of his rut, Zayn doesn’t move to take Harry into his mouth just yet. He continues the patterns his fingers were stroking, first on Harry’s bare hip and then drawing circles down to his thigh. The only contact he allows with Harry’s cock is in the form of soft, sweet kisses to the already drippy head, avoiding touching it with his hands until Harry is panting.

“Please, Zayn,” Harry says in a loud stage whisper.

“Shh, you have to be quiet so no one hears you,” Zayn reminds him.

“Don’t tease me then,” Harry bites, a spark of something inherently alpha flashing in his eyes.

Zayn pulls his hands away completely, crawling back on his knees so he isn’t touching Harry. The spark is gone immediately, replaced with a sincerity that’s more familiar to Zayn, but he can’t let the insolence go.

“You don’t make the rules tonight,” he reminds in a calm voice. “You agreed to follow my rules.”

“I know, baby, I will,” Harry says.

“You know what you have to do if you want to stop,” Zayn reminds. “Just tell me and we’ll go home and I’ll let you rut until it’s passed.”

“No, I don’t want that. I want to do this your way, I promise.”

Zayn smiles at that, small and reassuring. “Then be as quiet as possible and don’t you dare knot my mouth.”

Harry grins back at him and nods, letting his head fall back against the seat once Zayn finally takes his cock into his mouth.

 

 

Seven months of dating and three ruts in, Zayn knows Harry’s body like a well-read novel. He knows that the drawn out blowie in the car was enough to slip Harry into a perfectly balanced headspace; he’s aware enough to socialise and mingle with his coworkers but under enough that he sticks close to Zayn’s side and looks for him actively every time they’re separated for more than a moment.

Zayn comes out of the toilets to find Harry waiting for him, concern evident in his expression.

“I didn’t know where you’d gone,” Harry says in a low tone, getting a hand on Zayn’s waist and pulling him in close to sniff at his hair, the scent of Zayn’s omega pheromones calming him.

“I had to wee, babe,” Zayn grins, tilting his chin for a kiss.

The alcove they’re in is hidden from the main room of the party but anyone could still walk by, so they keep the kiss short and sweet. Zayn pulls back first, putting a hand between them when Harry makes to protest.

“I think you should put this on,” he says, nodding to the item he’s pressing to Harry’s chest with his palm.

Harry looks down, cupping his hand over Zayn’s after a moment and letting him slide his away after a second. Zayn can tell the exact moment Harry recognises what he’s holding, the flush in his cheeks that had been kept at bay now flaming bright against his pale skin.

“Then what?” Harry asks, licking his lips and bringing his eyes back up to meet Zayn’s gaze.

“Then come back out and say your goodbyes.”

Harry looks over his shoulder towards the party. “That will take forever.”

“It’ll take ten minutes,” Zayn corrects gently. “And then a little bit longer upstairs.” Harry’s throat bobs. “I’ll time it if you want to put it on.”

Harry nods and leans in for another kiss, the force of it catching Zayn off guard before Harry’s spinning on his heel and disappearing into the toilets. He grins at the space his boyfriend’s left behind, knowing he looks like a dork and not caring.

Zayn turns away and eyes the groups of people milling about the decorated grand room. He hasn’t met many of them before tonight and he doesn’t feel comfortable mingling on his own. He takes a sip of his water before spotting Niall over by the bar.

They’ve had drinks with Niall for the first time a few months ago, after running into him randomly in the mall. The lad had been charming, funny and friendly, and Zayn had struck up a small friendship with him. Niall was good company and had been over to their place for dinner on occasion.

Zayn zigs through the crowded room to reach the bar, smiling wide when the blonde looks up. “Hey, mate,” Zayn says, slipping into an open space next to Niall.

“Zayn, hi. Nice suit.”

Zayn looks down, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle. “A gift,” he says with a wrinkle of his nose.

“No matter to me. How’re you doing tonight?”

“Good, good. I think we’re getting ready to go, actually. Harry’s just popped into the toilets.”

Niall sips his liquor, casting a glance around the room. “A lot of people here can’t stop talking about Harry’s mysterious boyfriend. I’ve gotten a lot of questions.”

“A lot of people are nosey bints.”

“It’s part admiration and part jealousy. Harry’s risen fast, he’s gotten a lot of attention. When he started coming to work with love bites under his jaw and a change in his pheromones, people noticed.”

Zayn doesn’t know how to feel about that but he has an obligation to Harry to remain cool headed tonight. He can’t lose himself in thinking that the others in the room are focusing on him, cataloguing his moves. He just nods and shrugs all in one, earning a laugh from Niall and a pat on the back.

“You’re a good man, Zayn.”

Zayn’s distracted from answering when he spots Harry coming back into the room from the toilets. He’s holding himself stiffly, shoulders back and straight as he looks around. Zayn steps towards him and the movement must pull his gaze because Harry’s attention snaps to him. Harry crosses the room in what seems like four quick strides, brushing some loose strands back from his flushed face.

“You alright?” Zayn asks in an undertone.

“Fucking amazing,” Harry answers quickly and earnestly, cupping the back of Zayn’s head for a quick kiss.

“Be polite and say goodbye to everyone,” Zayn says once he steps back with a smirk. “Then we’ll go upstairs.”

 

 

After the overwhelming level of noise of the Christmas party, the silence in the elevator is a welcome relief. They’re standing close together in the back corner, Harry against the wall and Zayn crowding up to his side. It’s the first moment of true privacy they’ve had since they’d left their hotel suite earlier for the party. Harry’s firm had practically rented out the hotel’s upper floors so Zayn knows the ride to their suite will take some time. He buries his nose in Harry’s collar, basking in the scent of his hyped-up pheromones and letting any of the extra tension he held in his shoulders during the party finally drain.

Harry sighs and shifts a little, wrapping an arm around Zayn’s waist. Zayn smiles and glances up at the camera in the opposite corner of the ceiling from them before deciding to ignore it. A little PDA never hurt anyone. The poor sod stuck watching the security monitors might actually get a little kick from it. Zayn doesn’t like attention on him from too many strangers but he doesn’t mind a nameless, faceless person watching him show off his alpha a bit.

Shifting so he’s even closer to Harry’s side, Zayn reaches a hand to stroke against Harry’s belly. He tilts his chin up as he slips his hand lower and cups Harry’s dick in his trousers where he’s so hard.

“Do you think anyone saw this?” he asks in a low murmur, his lips just pressing against the curve of Harry’s ear. He can tell Harry can feel his breath when a shiver works through Harry’s system.  “Do you think your coworkers- your _boss_ \- saw how hard you are for me?” he continues.

“I don’t think so,” Harry says, his voice shaking just a hint. He rolls his hips forward into the contact. “I’m getting desperate, baby.”

 _Good_ , Zayn thinks to himself.

The day of getting Harry hot and letting him cool off in turn has taken its toll on Zayn as well. He’s been turned on and eager for the night since their day began. They don’t play like this just for Harry’s benefit- Zayn enjoys the control and the upper hand. It’s his way of giving back to Harry for everything the alpha does to take care of him. Especially when he’s in his heats.

Zayn presses kisses to Harry’s neck as he continues stroking him through his trousers, using his palm to apply more pressure until Harry groans. He then removes his hand and takes a step back so he isn’t touching Harry any further, watching Harry straighten his shoulders and drop his arm to his side.

“Still doing good?” Zayn asks, smiling when Harry nods immediately.

Harry’s cheeks and lips are still a light shade of pink but his blinking is quick and even. When he starts slipping under for good, his blinking always turns slow and exaggerated. It’s one of his most obvious tells, even if they’ve only done this a handful of times before.

The subtle _ding_ of the elevator when they reach their floor startles them both, pulling Zayn from his thoughts. They step out one by one into the hallway. Their floor isn’t quite the penthouse but very near, and there are only three doors available to them. They go to the one on their left, Zayn pulling the keycard from his jacket pocket and letting them in.

Zayn looks around at the suite they’d arrived in earlier in the day for check-in. It isn’t the most extravagant place Harry’s work has put him up in- a business trip to Dubai had put them in jaw-dropping gold-plated suite- but it’s one of the biggest and it’s in one of the best hotels in London. The window drapes are pulled back, letting the night lights of the city stream in. Zayn crosses the room to look out the window, not surprised when Harry follows him and presses against his back.

Harry’s mouth is gentle on the back of Zayn’s neck as he breathes against his hairline, “Baby, I need you.”

Zayn hums, letting his hips roll back and feel the thick line of Harry’s cock in his trousers.

“Baby,” Harry repeats, his words coming out in a moan. “You’re getting wet.”

Zayn knows it’s true, has felt the slick building up for the better part of the last half-hour, since he gave Harry the cock ring to put on. He turn son his heel, lifting his arms to wrap around Harry’s shoulders and lifting his chin for a kiss. “You’re getting me wet,” he counters when the kiss ends, one hand threading through Harry’s curls.

“I need to rut, please,” Harry says, pressing his hips forward and humming when he rubs against Zayn’s own hard prick.

Tutting and pushing Harry back, Zayn forces a pout to his lips. “That’s greedy of you. You got off earlier on the drive.” He pauses for dramatic effect, dragging his fingers down Harry’s collarbone and then down his sternum. When he starts talking again, he makes sure to keep his voice low and his tone disapproving. “I didn’t think you’d be selfish like this, daddy.”

Harry groans, eyes closing. Zayn grins and licks once against Harry’s chin in a tease before slipping away from him completely and heading through the sitting room and into the bedroom. He undoes his tie and the first two buttons on his dress shirt but doesn’t get any further before Harry is once again pressing against his back. Harry’s teeth nip against his neck gently before his head bows further and his forehead rests against Zayn’s shoulder.

It takes another roll of Harry’s hips against his bum for Zayn to realise that Harry can’t control himself like this. The two of them are as good as mated at this point, their pheromones already syncing like they never have with any of Zayn’s past partners. Because of this closeness and the intensity, Harry’s hormones are in overdrive. His rut is telling him to take what is his.

It’s a mindset that most alphas and their respective mates tend to enjoy, no matter their presentation. The first time Zayn had helped Harry through his rut, though, Harry had been so apologetic the next morning over the thought of accidentally hurting Zayn that it had made them both guilty and upset. Once they had started playing like this, slow at first and then more intense with every session, the residual remorse hadn’t been an issue.

And, on a different note, it’s some of the very best sex they’ve ever had.

“What can I do for you, baby?” Harry asks, his words sounding sinfully delicious coming from his scratchy throat. “Do you want my knot?”

 _Yes_ , Zayn thinks. More than almost anything else. But he owes Harry a better time than just that. He straightens his spine, forcing himself to not react to the way Harry’s coaxing him with touches. “That sounds like you’d enjoy it more than I would,” he lies, keeping his voice soft and calm. He doesn’t want Harry to think he’s upset, so he forces a nonchalant tone. “That wouldn’t really do anything to make up for the fact that you’ve already gotten off once already.”

“I can-“ Harry starts before he trails off.

Zayn takes a step forward and away from Harry’s hold before he turns to face him. “What can you do for me, daddy?”

Harry’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. When they open again, his pupils are so big his irises almost appear jet black. He looks almost like he has a concussion. There’s a subtle glow from the lights pouring into the bedroom from the outside, but they do nothing to lighten Harry’s expression. If anything, the shadows playing across his cheeks give him the impression of being cast from marble, with his eyes beady black jewels to give the statue life.

“Anything,” Harry says, adamant.

“Why don’t you get undressed and get on the bed,” Zayn suggests, reaching a hand out to tug at the button-down Harry is still wearing.

Harry follows instructions immediately, stepping away and tugging off his suit. He stops to fold the clothes and place them on a chair in the corner of the room before he crawls onto the bed. His arse is high in the air and Zayn looks his fill before Harry gets to the pillows and turns to lie on his back.

There’s a flush that’s spread from Harry’s cheeks and down his chest, coloring his sternum and clavicle in ruby red. His stomach rises and falls with his mostly even breaths, the hair under his navel thick and dark. His cock stands proud with the help of the ring secure around his base and balls. Zayn’s clocked fifteen minutes since he told Harry to put it on during the party, though they had almost been trapped into a conversation with a coworker and her odious husband. Harry had been short to the point of near rudeness but Zayn hadn’t minded, letting himself be swept along.

Now, reclining back into the plush bed, Zayn minds even less.

His alpha looks like a king like this, his cock thick and proud with clear precome pooling around the exposed head. Zayn’s mouth waters with the need to taste again and he follows Harry’s path up the bed before planting his hands on either side of his hips and lowering his mouth.

Harry groans when Zayn’s lips tease at the head and he hisses when Zayn opens his mouth further and sucks Harry down his throat in a well-practiced move.

The immediacy of the action catches Harry by surprise and he hitches his hips up, forcing another inch of his cock into Zayn’s mouth. Zayn moans against his gag reflex, forcing himself to relax as he bobs his head up and down, up and down for several long moments. He’s teasing and he knows it, building pressure that has nowhere to release to, but he’s greedy for a taste of his alpha.

When Harry’s noises grow quiet and soft, when he loses the edge of his earlier moans, Zayn pulls off sloppy enough that several thick lines of spit and precome connect his mouth to Harry’s cock until they snap. He licks his lips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tastes good, daddy,” he says with a cocky smirk, leaning back down.

He only intends to give Harry’s cock a quick kiss but Harry pulls away before he can, shifting his hips a few inches to the left so Zayn can’t reach. “Baby, I can’t,” he says.

“Yes, you can,” Zayn contradicts. “I’m only going to give it a little kiss,” he promises. “I’m not gonna suck you.” He leans back in, keeping an eye on Harry’s face, and does exactly as he said: he presses a close-mouthed kiss to the very edge of Harry’s knot where it’s locked in the cock ring before he pulls away and sits on his heels.

“Can you wait a little longer?” he asks, running his fingers around Harry’s ankle as he slips further down the bed.

“Anything you want,” Harry promises.

Taking stock of Harry, Zayn notices his breathing is quicker and his eyes seem brighter but that he also seems to still be in control of himself. Zayn trusts that Harry knows what he’s saying but, at the same time, he makes a resolution to rid Harry of all of his control. He decides he’ll consider the whole night a failure unless he takes every ounce of it from him.

“Want you to eat me,” Zayn says quickly, shuffling back further so he can slip off of the bed entirely. He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and untucks it from his trousers. He slips it off his shoulders and makes to take off his vest. His movements and the loosening of his shirt cause a subtle metal clanging sound to hit the air, though, and he hesitates when Harry speaks.

“What’s that?” Harry asks, eyes narrowing as he focuses on Zayn.

Zayn grins. He tugs the undershirt over his head, revealing the delicate silver chain that’s wrapped around his neck like a halter top and then crisscrossed around his torso before ending in a loose loop low on his hips. He drags his fingers across the chains, listening to the sounds they make now that they’re free to do so.

Harry groans and fists his hands, bringing them to his eyes as his cock kicks in its hold and blurts another thick line of clear precome.

“Do you like it?” Zayn teases, pinching at his own nipples when Harry looks down and plants his elbows in the mattress to lift himself up. His abs clench tight with the movement.

“Is that mine?” Harry asks, voice rough.

“I wasn’t sure if it would be too much,” Zayn starts but Harry shakes his head immediately, his curls messy around his face.

“I want it.”

Zayn smiles and pushes off his suit trousers, leaving his tight, black boxer briefs on. He climbs back onto the bed, straddling Harry’s waist just above his abs.

“I smell you,” Harry says, though he lays still. “Can I touch you?”

Zayn hums, shifting a bit but making sure to leave Harry’s abused cock alone. “You can touch,” he says, “gently.”

The skin of Harry’s fingertips is freezing cold against Zayn’s warm torso. He resists the urge to shiver and instead reaches down to touch Harry, himself. He starts with soothing circles across Harry’s stomach, tracing the lines of his stupid butterfly tattoo before circling higher and higher until he’s applying direct pressure to Harry’s nipples. He pinches and pulls at them gently, not enough to hurt yet but enough to get him used to it.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he instructs.

Harry nods and waits a few minutes. His breathing and posture both relax as Zayn keeps his motions calm. “I’m ready,” Harry says, grinning up at Zayn.

“Tell me if it’s too much and I’ll take them off immediately. It’ll hurt, either way, but it’s better than pushing yourself past your limits.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I’ll be a good boy.”

“Cheeky,” Zayn chides, one hand coming up to pat at Harry’s cheek playfully. Harry twists his head, pretending to bite at Zayn’s hand before Zayn brings his palm closer and gives Harry a chance to follow through. Harry kisses and nips at the fleshy part under his thumb while Zayn uses his other hand to undo the chain around his torso. He unclamps them singlehandedly where they’re attached at his hip, letting one end fall and unwinding it.

There are a few connectors along the chain and he needs to use his second hand to grab them. He rocks his hips along Harry’s stomach in a purposefully distracted fashion, keeping his arse away from Harry’s cock but giving the impression that he could grind back on it at any moment. It keeps Harry’s focus while he finishes freeing the chain.

The silver chain is so thin and delicate, warm from Zayn’s skin. He trails it through his fingers in a long line before scooting back. He finally drags his covered bum along Harry’s restricted cock, watching as Harry’s eyes flutter and his pretty pink lips part around a strangled groan at the sensation.

“Few more minutes, babe, then we’ll take it off,” Zayn promises.

Those lips and the pink tongue he can just catch a glimpse of are a godsend and a curse all at once. Zayn feels his hole clench completely without his instruction as it protests the fact that Harry’s mouth isn’t on it just yet. “Patience,” he says to himself in a soft breath though his mate still looks up as if he’s somehow heard. “Patience,” he repeats for Harry’s benefit as he reaches forward and pinches one of Harry’s nipples with his left hand. He’s gentle at first before increasing pressure, using his hand to mimic the way the clamps will feel.

When he’s satisfied, he uses his right hand to attach the clamp. Harry grunts and hisses, throwing his head back. The veins in his neck stand out in stark relief. Zayn feels Harry’s cock move against his bum, another kick as he reacts to the pinch of the clamp. While Harry adjusts, Zayn runs the chain through the loop of the ring Harry wears as a necklace. He’s careful not to apply any pressure to the clamped nipple but he taps Harry’s hip to instruct him to lift them so he can run the chain behind his back before pulling it around to the other side. He lets the free clamp rest on Harry’s tattoo.

“More,” Harry says, seconds before Zayn would have asked him if he’s ready for it.

Zayn doesn’t question his certainty, just massages Harry’s pec before pinching the nub until he can place the clamp.

“You’re so good,” Zayn says, touching the clamps with gentle fingers when Harry reacts and then calms again. He quickly follows his touch with his mouth, licking all around one nipple before pressing a line of kisses between his pecs until he can give the other nipple the same treatment. His hands work fast, pulling the two ends of the chains together until he can use a connector to snap them into a single loop, keeping the barest hint of a tug against where they’re clamped down.

“Can I taste you now?” Harry moans, eyes closed and cheeks scarlet. “Please, baby.”

“F’course you can, daddy,” Zayn says, pressing a smiling kiss to Harry’s pouty mouth. “Love the way you eat my arse.”

Harry groans again, shifting his hips on the mattress and hissing when his movements tug at his clamps. “C’mere,” he pleads, still not opening his eyes.

Zayn tuts at him, slapping his palm gently against Harry’s cheek, not enough to count as a true slap. He does it just hard enough to make a small sound. “Be patient,” he reminds Harry.

He wiggles off of Harry and then off of the bed, making sure to drag his arse, stomach and even a finger along Harry’s trapped cock on the way. Harry sighs at the tease as he shifts in the sheets and waits for Zayn’s next move. Zayn pushes his pants down quickly, not interested in wasting any further time. Harry always responds well to a tease but Zayn doesn’t know how much he could take, either.

He’s leaked heavily through the thin material, he realises. He kicks them to the side and runs his fingers through the trail of his own slick leading down his thighs. Carefully, he kneels onto the mattress close to Harry’s head.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Zayn murmurs. He waits for Harry’s nod of acknowledgment before he takes his messy hand and extends it, slipping his fingers across Harry’s perfect bottom lip. Harry groans and tries to flick his tongue out for a taste, but Zayn tuts and takes his hand away. “There’ll be use for that tongue in a minute.”

“Yes, please,” Harry says.

Zayn finishes tracing Harry’s pink lips, leaving them shiny with his slick, before he shifts around and settles with a knee either side of Harry’s body. He reaches behind him, fisting a hand in Harry’s curls gently. He lowers his body and uses his hand to guide Harry’s head up, moving slowly until he feels first the touch of Harry’s nose and then his tongue against Zayn’s arse.

He feels Harry’s lips curiously trace the edge of something glass that they find. Zayn clenches around the small plug in him, the one he’s been holding for what feels like always, the slightly flared base a focus for Harry’s mouth. Zayn doesn’t have to look to know that Harry still has his eyes closed- can tell by the way he reacts when he discovers the plug. His noises get louder and more eager, higher pitched whines and little sighs as he sucks, licks and even bites at it, all with a gentle, mindful touch.

“Take it out, daddy,” Zayn says, leaning forward and propping his hands on Harry’s butterfly as he rocks down against Harry’s face so the glass base clips his chin.

Harry lifts his hand and feels for it, tracing the tips of his fingers along Zayn’s bum before gripping the base and sliding it out. It’s slim, just a hint of pressure inside of Zayn. It’s a common plug for omegas to wear, a core of pheromone blockers to hide the scent of slick. He’d known that Harry’s heat would have him on edge all day, as well, and he likes the way Harry was surprised when he found it. It’s a win-win in his book.

With the glass plug discarded, Harry returns to licking and sucking at the relaxed clench of Zayn’s hole. Zayn keeps his hands planted on Harry’s butterfly, rolling and shifting his hips against Harry’s mouth. He feels so much all at once, the sharpness of Harry’s chin and the soft exhale of his breath. His lips are parted and coated with slick. His nose is even brushing randomly against Zayn’s skin as an added sensation. Every hint of a touch is taking Zayn higher.

Harry groans at the taste as he presses kisses to Zayn’s hole and then down his taint, his hands coming up to Zayn’s arse to spread his cheeks and give himself better access. Zayn has half of a mind to tell Harry to do it without hands but he’s selfish and can’t, needing to feel as much sensation as he can.

“So good, babe,” Zayn murmurs.

Zayn gasps when Harry presses his thumbs into his relaxed hole, tugging as if he’s stretching him open to make room for his tongue: his tongue, which is now pressing insistently into Zayn as if he’s going to reach the deepest parts of him. Harry pulls back with a wet slurp, smacking his lips almost obscenely before licking back inside for more of a taste.

Everything is speeding up around Zayn, the sounds of their moans and the movements of Harry’s tongue. He’s racing closer and closer to the edge but he holds on a moment longer, waiting. He shifts one of his legs so his foot is flat on the bed, using the extra control to better guide the movement of his hips.

“Baby,” Harry says against Zayn’s skin, his hands gripping his arse cheeks hard enough he may cause bruising. “Let me make you come.”

“Ah-oh fuck,” Zayn grunts as Harry’s hands shift. One goes to the dip of Zayn’s waist, pulling him down harder against his face while the other hand goes to Zayn’s cock, stroking him off without mercy. Zayn lets his head hang low, bouncing on Harry’s mouth as if he’s opening for his alpha’s knot, and feels his cock pulse in Harry’s hand almost against his will. He comes in a few quick spurts, dribbling creamy white come across Harry’s knuckles and onto his sternum as he fucks his hips forward through the pleasure.

“Fucking _shit_ , Harry,” Zayn says, the pressure in his head almost hurting as he comes until the aftershocks drain from his system. “So good, daddy, so fucking good.”

Zayn shivers as Harry teases him with a few more licks before his legs start working properly again and he can finally shift so he’s laying against Harry’s side, sharing his pillow.

Harry’s as far under as he’ll go; Zayn sees it immediately. His eyes are impossibly darker than they were before and they’re unfocused for a long moment as he turns to look at Zayn. His smile, when it comes, is slow and sweet.

“Hi,” Harry says, pursing his lips for a kiss.

Zayn smiles, feeling how hard his eyes are crinkling from the force of it, and he leans in. He wipes at Harry’s mouth once gently with the tips of his fingers before their lips touch. It was pointless, really, Harry’s entire mouth tastes like Zayn’s slick. Zayn groans, feeling his arousal begin simmering under the surface again.

Zayn traces his fingertips down Harry’s slick chin and then his neck, pinching a few select spots before he gets to Harry’s clamps. He tugs harshly at the same time he captures Harry’s mouth again.

Harry nearly screams into the kiss, back arching to the point of sure pain before he flops down to the mattress again. Zayn keeps his lips moving the entire time, coaxing Harry back from the edge.

“How do you feel?” Zayn asks.

“I’m…” Harry breathes.

“Are you done?” Zayn rewords it. It’s a cliché, but Harry responds much better to questions if they’re posed in an easy Yes or No format when he’s under during a rut.

“Al- almost.”

“You’ve been so good for me,” Zayn says, shifting again though he still feels weak from his orgasm. He straddles Harry’s legs under the knees, stroking his cock in slow passes before he eases the ring from around his knot, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. Harry’s cock is harder than it’s ever been, a “fucking steel beam,” Zayn says around a sigh.

“Please.”

Zayn doesn’t make Harry wait a second longer. He shifts forward, hands on the mattress above Harry’s shoulders as Harry grips his cock and holds it straight for Zayn to sink back onto. “Let go, daddy,” Zayn leans down to breathe into Harry’s ear. “Let yourself go.”

The force of Harry’s initial thrusts take Zayn by surprise. He braces himself better and pushes himself up with his hands, letting Harry set the pace. He’s hard again, an almost painful kind of arousal, but he knows Harry’s feeling it much worse after the amount of patience he’s shown.

“C’mon,” Zayn urges, pushing himself further up so he’s sitting straight on Harry’s lap, letting himself bounce in the rhythm Harry is setting. He trails his fingers to the clamps on Harry’s nipples. “Now or after?” he asks.

“Now, please, I’m close,” Harry says.

He’s gritting his teeth in anticipation, and Zayn clenches down on him as hard as he can in an attempt to distract him as he quickly and carefully loosens the clamps before pulling them off and letting them fall to either side of Harry’s chest, still connected by the silver chain threaded through his necklace.

“Fucking shitting fuck fuck,” Harry says, back arching again and knot popping in quick succession. His voice is impossibly high pitched and whiny, nearly a shout as his knot expands and stretches Zayn’s hole.

Zayn moans and lets himself go still, seated fully on Harry’s cock and letting his knot pump his seed. “Very _good_ ,” he stresses, rolling his hips once and smirking as Harry’s body echoes his. Lazily, Zayn reaches down and strokes his own cock gently, clenching around Harry’s knot to milk his full orgasm from him. It only takes Zayn a minute to come again, dripping over his knuckles and down his shaft.

Harry curses again when he feels Zayn’s orgasm shudder through his body. His hips are still moving in small spasms, like he can’t really control them, and his chest is rising and falling like he’s run a marathon. His face is as red as his abused nipples and his hair is sweat-soaked and messy behind his head on the pillow. He looks…

“Beautiful,” Zayn says, keeping his hands away from any bruised areas on Harry’s body. He clenches and relaxes around Harry’s knot uncontrollably, pushing through the aftershocks.

“Lay down, baby,” Harry encourages, his voice completely fucked. His eyes are more focused, smile coming quicker. He’s coming up from his rut with his normal speed. Once it’s out of his system, he’s usually back to his normal self.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Zayn protests.

“Like you could. Lay down.”

There’s a hint of alpha timber in his voice that makes Zayn roll his eyes.

“So bossy,” Zayn grumbles around a smile.

He works his way down slowly, thighs spread wide around Harry’s hips and elbows in the mattress as he rests their chests together. Harry hisses and jerks a little when his sore skin is touched, but a hand around Zayn’s back keeps him in place.

“I’m fine,” Harry assures him. “Stay here.”

Zayn sighs and relaxes, closing his eyes and nosing at the pheromone gland behind Harry’s ear. “I love you.”

“Oh, babe, I love you so much.”

They’re silent for a moment, Zayn letting himself relax before a thought occurs to him.

“I’ve got some cream in my bag. In case your nipples need it later.”

Harry laughs, using both hands against Zayn’s back to keep him steady. “That’s right romantic of you, baby.”

Zayn laughs as well, burying his smile in Harry’s shoulder and trying to keep still and not agitate his bruised skin any further. “I’ll always have cream for you, babe,” he says in an exaggerated, movie heroine mimic.

“Can we make sure that’s in our vows?” Harry teases.

Zayn tilts his face up, pressing a kiss to Harry’s chin and smiling all the while. “Our vows?”

“I think we’re heading there,” Harry says seriously, watching Zayn as if expecting an argument.

Zayn goes quiet for a minute. He sighs happily, thinking about how much of a bond they already share. He thinks about how whirlwind they’ve been already, how he fell for Harry right from the start and how that’s always been mutual. He thinks about how well they get on with each other’s friends, how their families interact like the oldest of friends. He thinks about how Harry’s flat has become _their_ flat and finally, he thinks about how he feels right now, in this exact moment.

“Yeah, we’re heading there,” he agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
